


Rock And Roll Record

by darkandstormyslash



Category: RocknRolla (2008)
Genre: A bit of One Two / Bob if you squint, M/M, Male Friendship, Mentions of dubiously consensual blow-jobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-03
Updated: 2015-12-03
Packaged: 2018-05-04 19:33:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5346029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkandstormyslash/pseuds/darkandstormyslash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Johnny Quid is out of rehab and looking to hire the Wild Bunch. Archy is making plans. One Two isn't happy with them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rock And Roll Record

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lousy_science](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lousy_science/gifts).



Prelude

_“How did you even get those Sidney Shaw papers?” Archy asks, eyes flickering between One Two and Mumbles._

_Handsome Bob gives a snigger. Mumbles smirks and says “Bob here. Did a bit of a honeypot mission with a lawyer, didn’t ya Bob?”_

_Archy’s eyebrows rise up his forehead and One Two suddenly doesn’t like it. Doesn’t like the expression that flickers in those eyes. Doesn’t like the way Archy seems to file the information somewhere in his brain. The way his lips twist as he murmurs, “Is that so?”_

_Bob nods, grins, holds up his drink. Mumbles laughs._

_And One Two doesn’t like it._

 

Piece

Johnny’s out of rehab now, back on the scene trying to snatch what’s left of Lenny’s world. There isn’t much, the vultures started circling the moment the old man dropped dead, and there’s only so much Archy can do on his own. Johnny’s starting from the bottom working up, which is why it’s not really a surprise when Archy appears at the bar like an unwelcome buzzard at a disco, sitting down next to the Wild Bunch, graciously ignoring the way One Two tries to ignore him.

“Afternoon boys?”

One Two glowers. Bob shrugs. Mumbles mumbles.

“You boys still in business?”

One Two can’t keep ignoring him. But he can damn well keep trying and so he glares angrily at a bar stool and snaps, “Who wants to know?”

“You’ve heard our Johnny’s out of rehab?”

They’ve heard.

“He’s a good young man. Clever. Dangerous. Might have a job for you boys.” Archy glances at One Two, still glaring at the table and sighs, rolling his eyes. “Not much we need from you, Johnny’s doing the dirty work himself, working his way up through the firm you might say.” Archy smiles, but the joke clearly isn’t appreciated so he keeps talking. “There’s this bloke. Owns a record company. All in, all big, all flashy money. He’s made some enemies and said enemies might have come to Johnny to get a bit of ... recompense. With me so far?”

“So?” One Two snaps.

“So we’ve got a band. Johnny can sing can’t he? We’ve found a lad who plays the guitar. Not well, mind you, but that doesn’t matter, we just need an excuse to hang around the place. We’ll need a couple of roadies to watch out for Johnny, to keep his back if things go a bit south, plan us a quick exit if needed. Quieten some bouncers if it comes to it. Know what I mean?”

One Two finally, grudgingly, agrees to look at him. He looks at Mumbles first, gets a nod of confirmation. “You want us to act as roadies for your fucking awful band in order to give Johnny boy the cover to go in and shoot a record company owner in the bollocks?”

“That’s about it.” Archy grins, gives a nod and stands up. “And Handsome Bob is playing the drums.”

“What?” One Two growls, as Bob lights right up at the idea of being in a rock and roll band. “Why? Why him?”

Archy shrugs, “We need a drummer.”

“I’ve never played the drums.” Handsome Bob laughs and Mumbles claps him on the shoulder. Archy smirks.

“I’m lead to believe it’s not that difficult. You hit things with sticks.”

Mumbles gives a sulk and mutters “Why can’t I be the drummer?”

\---

Working as a fake-roadie is probably one of the easier jobs they’ve had. One Two and Mumbles lug equipment into place, flirt with girls at gigs, drink large quantities of Pepsi, and flick through magazines. “Do you think,” Mumbles asks one evening, raising his voice above the truly god-awful guitar and out of rhythm drumming, “Do you think we missed our true calling in life?”

“I’ll tell you one thing, that lad playing the guitar didn’t.” Johnny’s singing isn’t bad, One Two has to admit. It’s just it needs proper backing, not some scrawny kid who spends his time half terrified of Archy and one excitable queer gangster who treats the drums like the birthday present he never got as a kid. Against all the odds though, it appears to be _working_. They’ve made some connections, played some gigs, even sold some T-shirts. Meetings with the record company are starting to be mentioned, various important people turn up at the gigs to listen.

Archy slips in through a back door and motions at One Two who sighs and puts down his magazine. “Fucks sake, what now?”

He can’t hear what Archy responds, but the hand motion is clear and One Two scowls and pushes himself upright, heading to the door. It leads out onto a little balcony above a rickety fire escape and Archy leans close and mutters, “You need a word with your boy Bob.”

“What? He’s not my _boy_ ...”

“He listens to you.” Archy glances around, but there’s nobody there. It’s just a skanky back-alley with rubbish blowing around the bottom of the fire escape and bad guitar coming from the building behind. “Which is perfect for your little operations but right now I need him to listen to me, and he’s not.”

“So what do you want me to do?” One Two snaps, not liking the way Archie’s talking to him, and certainly not liking the way he’s talking about Bob. What the bastard’s saying is most probably correct though. Bob isn’t exactly obedience defined and is probably far too busy pretending to be a drummer to worry about whatever job is going on. He sighs and repeats it in a slightly more defeated voice. “What do you want me to do?”

“Just have a word with him...” One Two turns to go and suddenly Archy’s hand is pressed on his shirt, scrunching the material, “One Two, listen. I know Lenny was big but Johnny – Johnny’s just started. We need this job to work out. We need to build a reputation and if we can’t ... well. It might not seem so important to you boys, but there’s a steady stream of jobs building up on this. Jobs for you from Johnny. _Well paid_ jobs. But this one needs to work.” His hand moves, quickly patting and straightening the shirt before he steps back, “Tell Bob we need it to work. _You_ need it to work. Which means he needs to stop pissing around on the drums and fucking _listen_ to what he’s told to do.”

One Two scowls and heads back into the building as the final crashing chord dies down, leaving an unnatural silence. “Yeah alright. I’ll see what I can do. No promises, mind...”

Archy smiles.

\---

Bob’s in the basement working out, and One Two opens the door feeling a bit stupid. He watches Bob, lying on his back, lifting the weights. Bob’s not wearing a shirt and One Two does have to catch himself, for a moment, just to consider.

If he had to, if it came to it, could he actually _sleep_ with Bob? He knows Bob fancies him. He knows the idea of it sets off strange parts in his brain that he’s not used to. But he doesn’t really have any desire to fuck Bob, or, worse, to be fucked by him. The memory of that slow dance makes him flush hot and cold both at the same time. It’s all a hotbed of confusion that he’s never properly dealt with.

Bob looks up and smiles, “Spot me?”

One Two crosses his arms across his chest and tries to look stern. He wishes he didn’t always end up doing Archy’s dirty jobs. “We need to talk, drummer boy.”

“You what?” Bob grins, and the grin fades as he realises One Two isn’t smiling back, “Oh for – what did he say?”

“Archy says you’re not putting the leg work in, you know. You aren’t looking for a post as a drummer here. We have a job.”

Bob scowls and pushes himself upright, grabbing his shirt and rubbing it over his face, not looking at One Two anymore. “What did he say?”

“Look.” One Two just wants to get this over with now. “This is important this job. Could be the start of a lot of other work coming our way. We need to get it done, right? Show Johnny we’re capable of actually fucking achieving it. Alright?”

He doesn’t like telling Bob off. He particularly doesn’t like the way the words actually seem to be affecting Bob. His shoulders are rising defensively, he’s not meeting One Two’s eyes and when One Two finally reaches forward to pat his shoulder he flinches.

“What is it, Bobski? What have you done to put Archy out of joint, eh? Not that it takes much.”

Bob sighs, shrugs, looks away. “It’s important we do this job, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Fine.” Bob’s jaw works and then he lies back down and picks up the weights. “Spot me.”

One Two counts. Bob lifts.

\---

Archy doesn’t speak to him again, and the meeting with the record company goes ahead. Johnny and guitar-boy hang around the van afterwards looking moody and irritated. Handsome Bob joins them about twenty minutes later looking even more moody and irritated.

Archy opens the door a few minutes after that. “We’re in. Got the deal.”

There’s silence until One Two says, “Great!” and then there’s some more silence.

“Drink?” Mumbles suggests.

Guitar-boy stutters and looks at Archy’s expression and shakes his head. Johnny sneers and collapses back in the van, “Fuck that. I’m driving home to not snort coke off an expensive hooker’s backside. Isn’t life _fun_ after rehab?”

Bob doesn’t say anything. He continues not saying anything as they hit the bar, as Mumbles gets the drinks in, as One Two looks at him curiously, knocks a shoulder against his, “What is it, Handsome Bob?”

“Nah.” Bob twists his face, shrugs, and drinks. He works his way steadily through pint after pint and when he staggers off to take a piss One Two rounds on Mumbles.

“What’s up with him?”

“Dunno.” Mumbles shrugs, “Just made a record deal, didn’t he? Maybe it takes it out of you?”

One Two shakes his head, “Why did Johnny and that stupid kid who can’t play the guitar come out of that meeting first. What the fuck is going on.” He looks up and scowls as Bob makes his way back towards them, “Hey Bob, what’s going on?”

“Need ‘nother beer.” Bob mutters, trying to turn away as One Two grabs at his shoulder.

“Hey. Bob. Handsome Bob. Bobski. What. Is. Going. On. You’ve got a face like a wet weekend in fucking Croydon.”

Bob still won’t look at him, just mutters at the ground. “You said the job was important.”

One Two feels his temper rising, “What did Archy get you to do, eh?”

Bob sighs, scowls, rubs the back of his head, “He said it was just a one off, y’know?”

Even Mumbles has cottoned on now that there’s something wrong and with both of them glaring at him Bob wilts and gives up. “Look, it was part of the record deal alright? Because, I mean face it, we’re a crap band.”

“What was part of the deal?” One Two says, patience of a saint.

Bob’s face twists, “Blew the geezer. Just after the meeting. Wasn’t too bad.” He hesitates and then scrubs at his face again, “Fuck it was fucking awful.”

“Right...” One Two stares for a minute, teetering on the brink of rage, and then it takes all of Mumbles’s strength to stop him slamming his way out of the pub there and then to tear Archy into tiny little pieces, “I’ll kill him. Fucking kill him. I’ll actually do it, fucking help me...”

Bob looks up, looking a little shocked, a little uncertain. “You didn’t know, didn’t have any idea?”

“Of course not! You think I’d have been happily hauling your gear around if I’d thought for a second that Archy was, was –“ He’s aware by now that the whole pub is staring and lowers his voice, almost mouthing the words, “Pimping you out?”

Bob stares at him and then starts to laugh, laughs and leans against the wall, then slides down it, head in his arms, laughter turning into something more like strange gulping sounds. “Fuck, I’m gonna be sick.”

Mumbles and One Two haul him out of the bar and keep him upright in the street. Somewhere in the taxi back he ends up with his head resting on One Two’s shoulder, and One Two pats it and strokes it and calls him a daft fucking cunt. By the time they get back to One Two’s flat Bob has managed to stop any tears that might have been threatening to fall, sniffling and wiping his arm over his face, nodding and going “Yeah.” whenever Mumbles turns to check on him.

He staggers straight to the toilet and brings up most of the beer while One Two sits in the kitchen, slamming a knife into the table. “He’s taking the fucking piss.”

“Archy?” Mumbles asks as Bob comes back looking a little paler.

“Who else. ‘Have a word with your boy Bob’.” He tries to mimic Archy’s voice unsuccessfully. “Fucker. He knew all along, that’s what he wanted you for, that’s why it wasn’t Mumbles on the damn percussion. He knew it’d take more than just bad music to get that deal.” One Two glowers and stabs the knife again. “That’s not fucking right. That’s not what we do, and that’s not...” the knife points at Bob. “What you do.”

Bob raises his hands weakly, “Sorry.”

“Don’t fucking apologize!”

“Sorry...”

“It’s Archy’s fault... fuck.” One Two scrubs a hand wearily over his face, “Alright, that’s it. Drumming over. Band over. We’re not going back.”

“Are you sure.” Handsome Bob looks at him a bit uncertainly.

One Two isn’t sure. He picks up his drink and downs it. “Course I’m fucking sure.”

“Archy’s gonna come looking.” Mumbles says, and Handsome Bob looks down, opens his mouth, and One Two just _knows_ that something stupid is going to come out about how he doesn’t want to cause any trouble and maybe they could just live with it, and Archy said it was one-time only –

He holds up a hand. Bob pauses, words unspoken.

“This isn’t about this record company twat.” He says slowly. “This is about what Archy thinks he can get away with asking for. If we let him take this one – that’s what he’ll think we're for. Alright? That's what he'll think Bob's for.”

“He’ll come looking though.” Mumbles points out.

One Two shrugs, wraps an arm awkwardly around Bob, rubs the top of the little scrubby head with his fist, “Well we’ll just have to make sure we aren’t there when he does. And you, Handsome Bob, don’t you dare put your mouth anywhere it doesn’t want to go in future, alright? Fucking hell.”

The look Bob gives him is pure, melting gratitude. And One Two scowls, and blushes, and pretends it’s the drink.

 

Coda

_Johnny is angry. Archy is angry. Archy comes looking. But everywhere he looks, it seems the Wild Bunch have just left. Word gets around that Johnny Quid won’t hire the Wild Bunch any more, but it’s strange how much work there is for the men who managed to momentarily make Archy look like a tit._

_And two weeks later a certain owner of a certain record company is fished out of the Thames with a knife in his back. As Johnny says; it might not be elegant, but it gets the job done._

_It’s a dead body, when all’s said and done, and where’s the elegance in that?_


End file.
